Why I’m Getting Married in December

Softly falling; covering the green grass, the bare trees, the parked cars. You can see it in the street lights, blowing at angles in the wind–but still softly falling, coating the landscape. It’s 2 a.m. and everyone but the night crew have gone home. The streets are dark and quiet, a lone set of tire prints guiding the way.

I smile, thinking of her’s. This is why I’m getting married in December: snow.

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